


有緣無份 (yǒu yuán wú fèn), or "To have fate without destiny”

by Lady_Tragedy



Series: Missing Words [1]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, F/F, Hunger Games AU, Hurt, I've been sitting on this one for too long, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Missing Words AU, Prequel, Quarter Quell (Hunger Games), Young Love, also explains the mockingjay pin origin, and boy will you love how things come full circle, and no comfort, but can be read as a stand alone too, but it's very vague and very minor, just you wait and see, mockingjay allegories, this is me trying to explain why Mrs. Mellark is such a bitch, underage consexual sex, we all know what happened to Maysilee so what did you expect, world building exploration, young lesbian love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 15:42:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28566390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Tragedy/pseuds/Lady_Tragedy
Summary: Ever wondered why Mrs. Mellark hated Peeta so much? Welcome to my TED talk, it includes young lesbians, love, broken promises and lots, LOTS of angst. Better yet, it could all very well be canon!Situated within my Missing Words AU but works as a oneshot too, if you already follow Missing Words THIS will give you some very much needed insight for when the Reaping comes.
Relationships: Mrs. Mellark/Maysilee Donner, Ruth Mellark/Maysilee Donner
Series: Missing Words [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2093040





	有緣無份 (yǒu yuán wú fèn), or "To have fate without destiny”

**Author's Note:**

> In case you get lost, this is a list of who is who in this story, although I believe it's pretty self explanatory:
> 
> Maysilee Donner (the Quarter Quell tribute, Haymitch's ally on the arena)
> 
> Mathilda Donner (Madge’s mom) 
> 
> Elijah Undersee (Madge’s dad) 
> 
> Lilian Hudson (Katniss’ mom) 
> 
> Ruth Cartwright (Peeta’s mom, and the shoemaker’s niece) 
> 
> Jacob Cartwright (Delly’s dad, Ruth’s cousin) 
> 
> Beatrice Thompson (Delly’s mom) 
> 
> Charles Mellark (Peeta’s dad) 
> 
> Matthew Everdeen (Katniss’ dad)

Ruth Cartwright was visiting his cousin, Jacob, when the door to the shoe shop opened, letting in a gust of cold winter wind. Her fifteen years of existence had flowed uneventfully until that fateful January afternoon, when the most beautiful person she had ever seen approached the counter and asked in a clear, sweet voice, if her powder blue party shoes were done already. 

Ruth remained rooted to her spot beside his uncle’s worktable, holding with numb fingers the chipped china mug where her auntie Delia had poured her a watered-down version of the spicy cider they had had for Christmas. She started to have trouble breathing, and her eyes didn’t seem capable of stop following the blonde girl that chatted with Jacob as he wrapped up a package with the thick brown paper uncle Noah liked to use. 

The girl looked barely reaping age, maybe a year older, and she was wearing a knee-length soft blue dress with white stockings under a grey wool coat that matched the hat covering her blonde curls. Her eyes were big and bright, and although they were the typical Merchant blue there was something about them that reminded Ruth of cloudless skies and sunny days, the ones she loved so much and that kept her afloat when the harshness of her reality threatened to swallow her whole. 

Her chest constricted, and her grip on the cup tightened. She didn’t understand what was happening, but she was certain that if that girl walked out of the shop without at least knowing her name, she would go insane. No, worse, she would _die_. This she was sure of; the same way she was sure the sun would rise from the east and set at the west. There was nothing to discuss about it, it was just a truth of life. 

Placing her cup as carefully as she could onto the little cookie plate now filled only with crumbs, Ruth gathered herself and went to the counter, trying to look inconspicuous but secretly hoping the girl would notice and look at her. Just as she was beginning to feel more confident, three steps away from the register, the blonde angel raised her eyes from her package and smiled. 

It felt as if the floor had disappeared under Ruth’s feet. She no longer knew which way was up and which way was down, and nothing else tethered her to this world except a pair of light blue orbs, a handful of ruffled blond locks, and pink, smooth curved lips. An ugly blush creeped up her neck to her cheeks, and Ruth felt terribly inadequate in front of that beautiful, heavenly human being. She wanted to retreat, to hide under her bed and maybe never come out again. To live off the memory of that smile for the rest of her life. To capture this moment and be able to live in it forever. 

But she could do none of these things, as Jacob turned to smile at her too and introduced her to the stranger. “Ruth, this is Maysilee Donner, the mercer’s youngest daughter,” he said, blissfully unaware of the emotional turmoil happening inside his cousin’s mind. “Maysilee, this is Ruth Cartwright, my cousin. She is my uncle Fred’s daughter.” 

“Pleased to meet you,” was Maysilee Donner’s response, and she held out her glove-less hand to Ruth for a handshake. 

The manners her mother had drilled into her made Ruth take the offered hand automatically, but the instant her skin made contact with Maysilee’s cold palm a current went through her body, leaving her feeling stupidly happy. If she hadn’t been watching the girl’s face avidly, she might have missed the widening of her eyes or the slight blush that tinted her cheeks, but as it was, Ruth could see she hadn’t been the only affected one with that exchange. 

With a trembling voice that she barely managed to control, Ruth replied with the customary “Pleased to meet you too,” and squeezed Maysilee’s hand one more time before letting go. 

Jacob was already back at the worktable when Maysilee exited the shop, so Ruth felt free to stare back unabashedly when the blonde girl turned to look at her over her shoulder. They had a battle of wills, daring the other to look away and pretend nothing strange had happened. 

Neither of them did. 

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx 

Ruth was seventeen now, and Maysilee was just a few months shy of sixteen. 

Even though the age gap wasn’t that big of a deal, Ruth still prided herself in respecting her girlfriend’s wishes and never forcing her to do anything she didn’t feel ready to do. Maysilee would roll her eyes at Ruth’s antics, but both knew deep in their hearts that doing things right was important if they wanted their relationship to last. 

They hadn’t told anyone about it. Even though the Capitol had set no law against same-sex couples, the Merchants of district 12 were adamantly against what they called “foolish youth delusions”. It wasn’t that homosexuality was unheard of in the district –after all, there were a lot of them, especially in the Seam- but for the Merchant lifestyle, in which keeping each business within the family was the most sacred of all rules, a couple that could not produce blood children was as good as useless. 

That was one of the reasons arranged marriages were still a thing among the townies, and also why not even their closest friends knew about their two-years-long relationship. Throughout the time they had been secretly courting, a bunch of Merchant kids had also joined their “friendly” get-togethers under the pretense of creating alliances with the future shop owners of the district but in reality just enjoying the time hanging out together away from the watchful eyes of their parents. 

Mathilda Donner -Maysilee’s older sister and Ruth’s classmate- and Lilian Hudson -the apothecary’s only daughter- were the first ones to approach them the first public market day Ruth invited Maysilee out. The four girls had visited every stand that caught their eye and had ended up buying two caramelized apples to share while resting on the shade provided by the Justice Building. That day, as Lilian and Mathilda gossiped about who was the most handsome eligible bachelor of the year, Ruth let Maysilee give the first bite to their apple. 

The blonde girl had smiled coyly, and without taking her eyes off Ruth’s she licked with just the tip of her tongue the caramel a few times to soften it, before taking a bite. Ruth felt warmth coursing through her body and had to use all her self-control not to reach over and try to replace that apple with her lips. Suddenly though, the tension between her and Maysilee broke when the blonde girl had to make a weird face to chew the big chunk she had taken from the apple. 

Ruth laughed loudly, overcome by the bubbliest of joys when she saw Maysilee’s chipmunk-like cheeks trying to retain some type of modesty while attempting to swallow the fruit. Mathilda and Lilian returned their attention to them at the sound of Ruth’s laughter, and soon enough all four girls were giggling madly and picking at each other amiably. Among the ruckus, Ruth managed to slip her arm around Maysilee’s back, and squeezed her once, tenderly, to let her know she wasn’t mocking her or insulting her in any way. 

Maysilee snaked her own hand up to meet Ruth’s fingers on her shoulder, casually brushing their fingertips together. To Ruth, even the smallest touches from Maysilee felt like a lightning bolt, but this one time, instead of rapidly breaking the contact to avoid being seen, she dared to curl her index and middle finger around Maysilee’s. That became their secret comforting gesture for each other. 

Right then, in front of the public eye, it was the only way they had to say, “I love you”. 

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx 

It was the day after Ruth’s last reaping, and her parents had let her go to the Donner’s to have a sleepover with her friends. Mathilda and Lilian were obviously going to be there, but there was a new addition to the group that Ruth hoped would give her and Maysilee at least a few minutes alone. 

Beatrice Thompson was a brown-haired, mousy looking girl, that despite her unremarkable looks had a talent to make small talk with absolutely anyone and everyone. It wasn’t the kind of friend Ruth would make for herself, but since she was Jacob’s soon-to-be wife, Ruth was doing her best to help her integrate with the Cartwright’s social circle. Beatrice had turned nineteen just three weeks ago, and as soon as she had been free from the reaping, her parents had set up an arrangement to secure her a marriage with the shoemaker’s son, completely disregarding the fact that Jacob was seven years older than their daughter and that they had met for the first time the night their engagement had been announced to both their families. 

Ruth couldn’t help but to empathize with her new cousin. Ever since meeting Maysilee three years ago, the disgust she had felt for arranged marriages had grown into full-blown resentment, and she pitied the poor souls that fell victim to the intricacies of social customs within the Merchant class. Beatrice had it relatively easy, though. Jacob was a nice enough young man, handsome, hardworking, and above everything else, respectful. Most of Ruth’s conversations with Beatrice had revolved around how she could’ve done much worse, married off to one of Rooba’s alcoholic brothers or, God forbid, to some miner from the Seam. 

Even so, sometimes Ruth would look at Maysilee and ask herself what would they do when the moment to get married came and they refused to do so. She wondered how far their families would go to make them comply to their wishes, given that neither Ruth nor Maysilee were firstborns and therefore they wouldn’t inherit the family business to begin with. She hoped they would be more lenient, taking this into account. Ruth sometimes even dreamed of working at her father’s shop under her brother, just enough to sustain herself and Maysilee comfortably, and living the rest of her life as a pariah of her own community but happily married with the woman she loved. 

As she introduced Beatrice to Lilian and Mathilda, Ruth’s mind repeated over and over again the words she so longed to tell Maysilee later, under the cover of the night. “I love you,” she wanted to say, out loud, for once. “Marry me, right after your last reaping is over,” Ruth would beg, and if Maysilee accepted –who was she kidding, _when_ Maysilee accepted, - she would wrap around her neck the delicate golden chain of the old mockingjay necklace Ruth’s gradmother had given her last winter before passing away from pneumonia, when Ruth had finally confided in her who her heart truly belonged to and what she hoped her future would become. 

“A mockingjay,” her grandma had whispered in her ear, “because it is the symbol of the rebellion. It’s a testament of how the Capitol tried to control the districts and destabilize the rebels, and how when the war was lost and they no longer had use for their mutts, abandoning them to die in the wild, they adapted, and they _lived long enough to leave a print in the world_.” Ruth didn’t know if the glint in her grandmother’s eyes was from the passion of her rebel dreams or from the fever, but she couldn’t stop listening, even if her grandma’s hot breath smelt of sickness and old age. “The jabberjay didn’t do what it was ordered to do. The mockingbird didn’t have to mate with the jabberjay, but it did. And from these two birds that defied all odds and laws of nature, the mockingjay was born. And it’s gorgeous.” 

Ruth had taken the beautiful pin from her grandma’s trembling hand and had called a couple favors from the jeweler's son to transform it into an elegant necklace that Maysilee could wear all the time without raising suspicions. It felt fitting, somehow, to use a mockingjay as a symbol of her promise to love Maysilee for the rest of their lives; a rebellion in itself, what with both being female, and Merchant. 

It wasn’t until they had all retired for the night that Ruth got to propose to Maysilee, but the wait was completely worth it. Both Lilian and Beatrice had hit it off right from the start, and Mathilda offered to host them in her room so they could keep talking all night long if they so wished. Right when Ruth was starting to wonder where would she sleep then, Mathilda had off-handedly asked her, “You don’t mind sleeping with my sister, right? It’s just that all four of us would be too cramped in my room.” 

Flustered, Ruth had searched her mind for an elegant way to refute the offer, but there was something in Mathilda’s knowing look that made her purse her lips and say playfully, “I won’t mind if you promise to teach me how to knit those hats you gave Elijah Undersee for Christmas last year.” 

Mathilda promised, and they wished each other a goodnight before closing their respective doors. As soon as they were away from prying eyes, Maysilee jumped to her arms and kissed her furiously, the way they had only done a handful of times in empty bathrooms and dark alleys when the longing had gotten too hard to handle. In between kisses and caresses, Ruth finally blurted out the words that consumed her. 

“I love you, Maysilee.” 

The blonde girl paused, and searched Ruth’s eyes as if they held the answers to all of her questions. Ruth would never know what had Maysilee found in the depths of her chocolate brown eyes, but it must’ve been something really good because she softly replied, “I love you too, Ruth.” 

That night, Maysilee locked the door and drew the curtains before baring herself to her girlfriend. The initial fear of the unknown was soon replaced in Ruth’s mind first by the wonder the naked body of Maysilee evoked in her, and second, by the unexpectedly warm pleasure of thin, nimble fingers caressing her skin and soft plump lips kissing and sucking and biting parts of her body she didn’t know that could feel so good. 

Later, feeling drowsy and tired as well as inexplicably calm, Ruth took out the mockingjay necklace and asked Maysilee if she would do her the honor of marrying her in two years, as soon as she became an adult to the eyes of Panem. Maysilee cried fat hot tears that made her face look splotchy and left her nose full of snot as Ruth clasped the chain around her neck. She had never looked more beautiful in Ruth’s eyes. 

They dressed up hastily and kissed chastely one more time before settling into bed to sleep. Before surrendering to her exhaustion, Ruth wished for time to go faster so she would be closer to spending every night like this, in a bed next to Maysilee, with no other worries in the world besides how to make her smile again in the morning. 

That was the only time they slept together. 

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx 

Maysilee was just two months away from turning seventeen when she was reaped. 

It was the Second Quarter Quell, and to commemorate the fiftieth anniversary of the Capitol’s triumph over the rebellion, every district had to send double the number of tributes than usual. Unlike other years, not a single soul breathed with relief after the first two names were called; they were only the first pair of tributes to be thrown into the arena this year. 

Ruth was watching from the sidelines, clutching Mathilda’s hand with her own as if her life depended on it. It was Maysilee’s second to last reaping, and even though the odds of a Merchant girl’s name being drawn were very low, Ruth couldn’t breathe. It didn’t make it any easier that, ever since the reading of the Quarter Quell card, Maysilee had been having horrible, vivid nightmares about bright pink bird-like creatures trying to devour her alive, and nothing Ruth did could soothe her. 

Impotence was eating Ruth alive. In prior years she had at least had the option to volunteer for Maysilee in the remote event she was chosen –she loved her that much, of course. Today though, she was no longer eligible and had to watch from behind the ropes how the disgustingly extravagant escort made a show of putting his hand into the bowl, picking and letting go at least eleven paper slips before finally settling on the last one for the girls. 

When the name “Maysilee Donner” fell from his metallic purple lips, Ruth’s heart dropped to her feet. 

It wasn’t will-power what kept her from crying, it was pure shock. Ruth had taken refuge from reality in a tiny dark corner of her mind, where she stored every single moment she had shared with Maysilee since that day four years ago at the shoe shop, and barely had enough presence of mind to hear the last name called for the boys. 

“Haymitch Abernathy.” 

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx 

There was no comfort for Ruth once Maysilee’s train was gone. 

Her only tether to this world now was the delicate golden chain of what had been once a necklace for the love of her life. Ruth replayed her last moments with Maysilee in that empty room of the Justice Building over and over, trying to recall the exact number of freckles over her nose and the precise length of her nails, as if that could somehow bring her girlfriend back to the safety of her arms. 

She had insisted that Maysilee should keep the necklace as a token, but in the end, they had ended up splitting it so they could both keep something to remember the other. Maysilee had pinned the mockingjay to her dress with stiff fingers, while Ruth wrapped the chain around her wrist, like a bracelet. 

“I’ll come back,” Maysilee had promised, giving Ruth a last lingering kiss on the lips. 

Four weeks later, Ruth’s chain broke. 

It broke at the same time Ruth realized Maysilee had broken her promise too. 

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx 

After Maysilee’s death, Mathilda never spoke to Ruth again. 

They last crossed paths a Mathilda’s wedding, which was a sad, gloomy affair that only carried on because there was a contract involved with Elijah Undersee, but that nobody really had a heart to celebrate. 

Haymitch Abernathy had returned home barely a fortnight ago crowned the Victor of the Second Quarter Quell and only living victor of District 12. Darkly, in the privacy of her thoughts, Ruth rejoiced in the fact that it had taken longer for him to take the train back from the Capitol than for his entire family to die in mysterious circumstances. 

No one spoke about it, but everybody knew. The new Victor had made the Gamemakers look like fools, and he was so arrogant that the only question was, what had he done to anger President Snow so much? 

The whole district was subdued for months after that. There had been too many deaths in the span of a month, and the morale was low. So many young lives –Maysilee, Linda and Graham (the other tributes), and Haymitch’s thirteen-year-old brother, Lucas, - lost to the insatiable hunger of a monster they couldn’t fight. All of those loses made life look bleak. 

At least for Ruth, it did. 

The only friend she kept after the Quarter Quell was Lilian Hudson, who even with her blonde hair and blue eyes wasn’t as painful a reminder of Maysilee as Mathilda or even her cousin Jacob had been. Ruth often found herself perched on a stool behind Lilian’s counter, leafing through the apothecary’s ancient book while she sipped whatever concoction against sadness her friend had prepared for her that day, and listening to her endless chat about Charles Mellark, the baker’s son, who had approached her with a formal request to start a courting a week after the reaping. 

Sitting there hour after insufferable hour, Ruth slowly started to hate both Lilian and Charles for their unbearably sweet courting that reminded her too much of the way she had approached Maysilee, and how she had lost her with only her dead grandmother knowing their secret. 

Ruth stopped frequenting the apothecary when Lilian’s engagement to the Mellark boy became official. She couldn’t bear to see them knowing they had gotten together scarcely a week after one of their friends had been cavorted off to a strange place to fight for her life. Disrespectful, those two were. How dared they. 

The last bright spot in Ruth’s life was when she heard the news that circulated around town. Lilian had eloped with none other than Matthew Everdeen, that Seam scum that fared a little better than the rest because he was cocky enough to venture into the forest alone, breaking her engagement with Charles and renouncing her right to inherit the apothecary all in the same day. For Ruth, that was justice delivered by a higher power, coming to avenge her wounded pride for having to endure Lilian’s stupid love trash when she herself was mourning her broken heart. 

Weeks later, when she saw Lilian flaunting her cheap marriage ring at the public market walking hand in hand with that Seam miner as if he were the best thing to ever exist in the world, Ruth couldn’t refrain the bitter taste that invaded her mouth. 

_‘It should have been you, and not_ _Maysilee_ _, who went to those Games. Throwing your life away for a coal miner_ _..._ _Maysilee_ _could’ve done better,’_ Ruth thought, and walked back home without getting the supplies her mother had asked her to buy. 

Two days later, Charles Mellark knocked on Ruth’s door. 

For a reason she could never explain even to herself, Ruth let him in. 

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx 

Ruth was sitting on the small tub where she bathed, crying. 

She ached for Maysilee so hard. Her wedding night had been nothing like that night she had spent wrapped in her girlfriend’s arms, and she’d be a fool not to admit she was afraid of this new intimacy that Charles had forced on her. It wasn’t that he was violent, not at all. But he seemed oblivious to her unresponsiveness, to her cries of pain (“it’s always like this the first time,” he had said), and most importantly, to her pleads to take their marriage slow. 

A better woman than Ruth might have accepted her fate with resignation, winning her husband’s devotion with sweet kisses or honest conversations. That’s what her mother had suggested, anyway. Sadly, after one night, Ruth was sure the problem was within the very core of her being: she didn’t like men, not one bit. In fact, she now could truly say she hated them. 

Hate came so easily to her these days. 

As she scrubbed her skin raw trying to get rid of the feeling of his fingers squeezing her thighs and breasts, Ruth thought of Maysilee and her sweet voice, the soft yellow curls of her hair and the soft curvy planes of her body. Before she could stop it, an image burst into her fantasy, leaving her as breathless and anguished as the first time she had seen it: Maysilee’s throat cut open by the pink-feathered mutts, bleeding out in Haymitch Abernathy’s scarred arms, desperately clutching at the mockingjay pin in her lapel. The sound of her cannon haunted Ruth’s dreams for years. 

After that episode, it haunted her encounters with her new husband too. 

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx 

Ruth Mellark’s boy was ill, and for a moment she feared he would die. Measles wasn’t the worst thing that could happen to a little boy, but for some reason Bran’s body wasn’t fighting it as it should, and the fever was winning the battle. 

Shaking off the pang of silly emotivity, Ruth changed the damp cloth on Bran’s forehead as she wondered if maybe this was a signal to start trying for another baby. The bakery did well enough to sustain one or two extra mouths, and it was always better to have spares in case one of the older children died or was reaped. When Bran coughed again, she decided she’d visit Charles room tonight. 

Better to have an early start, if this one was too weak to last. 

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx 

Seeing Rye’s sandy tuft of hair after his first bath was quite the disappointment. Not for the first time, Ruth wondered what it would take for her to conceive a child with Charle’s blonde hair and her mother’s blue eyes. 

After realizing the task of conceiving Rye was less repulsing than expected, Ruth had become set on having a daughter with Maysilee’s blonde locks and wide blue eyes. Even knowing that it was highly improbable to give birth to an exact replica of her dead lover, Ruth was determined to succeed. 

When she finally had the girl she had wished for, something inside Ruth broke forever. With her white-blonde curls and big, round cobalt blue eyes, the baby was as beautiful as she had pictured. It was a pity it had been born dead. 

Tending to the other twin was hell: the blond boy that looked so much like his sister was a constant reminder that fate had a twisted sense of humor wherever Ruth was concerned. She soon learned to hate the boy viciously, taking out on him all the anger she had kept locked inside her after Maysilee’s death. 

Yet, the boy never retaliated. Even when he grew up and became taller and stronger than Ruth, he would only use his hands to defend himself, never responding to any aggression neither Ruth nor her other children could inflict on him. He was kind, and soft, and patient, and good with the pencil and frosting cookies or cakes. 

It was unbearable. Sometimes Ruth would grip the pieces of Maysilee’s broken chain with all her might, trying to imprint the delicate golden loops in her skin, and pray to whatever spirit, power or god above for a prompt death or for that infernal boy to be taken away. Somewhere along the way, Ruth had learned to despise everything that reminded her of the girl she had loved, and that damned boy was almost a carbon copy of her. Life near him was full of painful reminders and bitter regrets. 

When the boy was sixteen, Ruth’s wish finally came true. 


End file.
